


Just Like We Always Do

by make_your_user_a_name



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Character Death, Episode: s15e09 The Trap, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Season 15, season 14
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:35:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22919311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/make_your_user_a_name/pseuds/make_your_user_a_name
Summary: Little codas and additions to destiel following Mary's death, and a coda to 15x09
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 59





	Just Like We Always Do

“So, what do we do now?” 

“What we always do.” Dean’s voice is rough, forced. Because it isn’t what they always do. It’s mom. Mary Winchester.

The woman who made Dean feel normal at the beginning of his life. Who gave him a childhood, even if it was just four years of it. The woman who they thought was gone forever, who started this whole crazy adventure. The woman who made a man fall so in love with her that her death caused him to spiral. To abandon his children, to force them to grow up alone. 

Mary Winchester, who was what Dean needed most. Who accepted the men they had become, even if she hated it. Even if she wanted them to be normal. Who accepted Jack, adopted him without a second thought. Who accepted Castiel, and loved him like one of her own. Who adapted to being thrown fifteen years into the future, and managed to give all of herself to her boys in the midst of it all. 

So, they would salt and burn her. They would give her a hunter’s funeral. Because that’s what she would have wanted, it’s what she deserved. It’s what they’ve given to all their friends, all their family that left them. But it wasn’t the same. 

The wood felt rough in their hands as they quickly built the pyre. They had far too much practice for there to be any need for words. Not that they wanted words anyway. Everytime Dean glanced up at Cas, he felt the anger creeping back in. He didn’t want it. He knew it wasn’t fair, knew that he was just as responsible for Cas in this. But he couldn’t help it. 

Sam needed his brother, needed his help in this. And he needed his best friend. But he could tell neither of them were in a place where they could be there for him, and he could manage. He knew Dean would give anything to help him, but he had his own crap to work through. 

In silence, they gently laid her body on the pyre. At least they had that much, and they had Jack to thank for that. 

Dean shook his head at the thought of Jack. He couldn’t let himself think about that right then.   
About his son. His son that betrayed them, that killed--

It didn’t matter. Because it wasn’t Jack anymore, and Dean knew that he was the only one who would be willing to fix that. Cas was too devoted, he believed in him too much. And Sam would always look for another way. 

And yeah, Dean didn’t want to kill him. He didn’t want to end the sweet innocence and trusting kid that had power that belied everything about him. But it needed to be done. 

They all step back as Sam lays a hand to his mother’s forehead, pressing a soft kiss against it and blinking back the tears. Cas steps forward with a box of matches and pulls one out to strike it. But before he can, Dean snatches it from his hands. 

For a brief second, their eyes meet. Dean hates the pain he sees in the angel’s eyes, the betrayal. He hates it but he’s angry. Still angry at Cas. Angry at Jack, at Chuck, at Amara, at John. He’s angry at himself. But he’s too scared to fix it, so he jerks his eyes away from Cas. And all Cas saw was pure anger staring back at him. 

“You don’t have the right.” Dean mutters darkly, before striking the match and dropping it onto the pyre, ignoring the hurt look he knows is in Cas’ eyes.

Sam shakes his head, wishing he could fix the rift growing between his brother and everyone around him, and then he steps back. Cas and Dean follow and the three of them watch Mary Winchester burn. 

Cas stands the same he always does, shoulders hunched and arms hanging loosely at his side. He never really knows what to do with his hands, but it doesn’t seem to matter.

Sam stands defeated. He manages to look small and vulnerable and afraid even as he towers over his family. 

Dean stands stiffly, anger rippling through him. His hands are shoved in his pockets and his legs are spread into a fighting stance. But he forces himself to look. To see the flames taking her away from him. 

The silence spreads thickly over them, and their thoughts begin to drift to better times. 

Sam sees his mom when she first got back. How she stepped into his cloudy, torture-filled vision and rescued him. He remembers the disbelief, the relief. Trauma, pain, joy, euphoria, regret, anger all threatening to overwhelm him as he melted into his mother’s arms. How he felt it all dissipate as he hugged his mother for the first time in his entire life. How her lips quirked upward in her impossibly soft smile and her eyes filled with tears and she whispered, “It’s okay, Sammy, I’m here now.”

Dean sees his mother making him a sandwich in their normal, apple-pie kitchen. She’s youthful and happy, not the deadly woman he got to know later in life. He wishes he could tell her right there. That he could warn her, tell her to leave it all, to spare John, spare her boys. But he knows it wouldn’t make a difference because Mary Winchester does not abandon family. 

Cas sees a conversation with Mary that stands pristine in his already impeccable memory. It was late at night in the bunker. Cas was dragging his finger over and over a particular spell in a particularly old spell book trying to make sense of the cryptic wording. The words were spinning off the page and he looked up to clear his head. She was standing there, simply staring at him with a smile spreading across her face. 

“Hello, Mary.”

“Hey, Cas. What’re you doing up?”

“I don’t sleep.” It was automatic, that response, and the humans never seemed to understand it. He gave it robotically, his mind engaged with the woman standing in front of him. She was still smiling, like she knew a secret he didn’t. 

“Well, I couldn’t sleep. I was on my way to the kitchen to grab a beer, care to join me?”

The angel stood up wordlessly with a nod and a smile so slight that Mary almost missed it.

“Of course.”

They had sat in comfortable silence for several minutes, or at least it was comfortable for Mary. Cas still hadn’t known how to feel about her at the time. She was the Winchester’s mother, he had known her before they were even born. She held incredible prestige in Heaven and on Earth. Yet she sat before him, as human as the rest of them. Humble, sweet, caring, and indefinitely selfless. 

Dean certainly shares a lot of those characteristics, he mused quietly.

“Cas,” Mary begins, cautiously but not at all uncertainly.

“Yes, Mary.”

“When I got back--when Dean told me that he and Sam--my sons--had become hunters, I was   
terrified. I knew what that life was; always running, always hurting, always alone. And I was so proud of them, so proud of what they’d done, but I was scared. Because I didn’t want my boys to be alone. And when Dean told me about you, well, he cares about you a lot. That much was obvious. But I didn’t know if you’d really been there for them. And then I met you.”

Cas watches her eyes fill with tears, and emotion seeped into her voice.

“Castiel, thank you for taking care of my boys. You’re Dean’s best friend, you’re like another brother to Sam, and I know that they might overlook you, they might take advantage of you, but you never left them. Thank you.”

Cas tilted his head slightly at her description of his position. He knew how the Winchester’s viewed him. He was their brother. His eyes narrowed in innocent confusion, but he simply nodded.

“Of course.” He was surprised to hear his own voice come out a little more gravelly than usual.

“And Cas? I’m sorry Dean is a blind idiot.”

His squint intensified and his head tilted dangerously far. He was the picture of confusion, even   
as he felt his heart beat grow rapid and his breath become shallow. 

“Relax,” a soothing laugh accompanied the words, “I’m not gonna tell him. But just know I love both of you. And I see how much it hurts you. And it’s okay, Cas. It really is.”

The flames lick the wood, and devour the thin sheet covering her body. Cas glances over at Dean, sees the anger, sees the hurt, and instinctively steps toward him.

Sam immediately throws up an arm, ignoring the pain in Cas’ eyes. He meets his glare and shakes his head. 

But Cas is tired. He’s tired of being pushed away by the brothers. Tired of their stupid walls, their stupid emotional protection. He shoves Sam out of the way with a little more strength than he intended and closes the gap between him and Dean. His arms wrap around him without hesitation and he isn’t surprised when he feels Dean’s body immediately tense up.

His arms are pushing him off and he’s struggling to be free.

“What the hell, Cas? Get off me!” 

Cas hangs on, not even flinching when Dean elbows him hard in the gut. Slowly, Dean relaxes. Just a little. All the tension, all the hurt, all the anger is still there. But he’s in control, even if it’s by a fraying thread.

“I’m here, Dean.” Cas’ deep voice shakes as he struggles to put every ounce of meaning into those words. I’m not leaving, you can trust me. 

“I know,” Dean whispers as he collapses into him. He shrugs off some of the burden, some of   
the weight that’s crushes in on him unto the shoulders of the angel beside him. 

“I know.” 

They thought burying Mary and finding Jack were the massive challenges facing them. And then God started the end of the world. Cas did his best, he tried like he always did, but he knew he had disappointed Dean. And he couldn’t do it again, couldn’t let him down again, so he left. 

Wing deep in Leviathan in purgatory, he heard the pleading, broken voice of his friend. A cry for forgiveness, for understanding. And so he fought. He fought to get out, to get back to him. 

You’re my best friend.

So what if that’s all he was, he told Dean he would always be there. And he meant it, even when he left. 

“I heard your prayer.”

“Cas, I-- It’s not just that. I don’t know why I get angry, I don’t know why I lash out, and I don’t know why I push you away. But I do know why I keep coming back. Why I keep trying to fix it no matter how badly I screw it up.”

The words lift Cas’ mouth into a cautious smile, but he can’t help glancing at the rift. He can feel it growing smaller, can feel it fading. 

“Dean, I heard your prayer. It’s okay, we’re okay. We have to go, we have to save Sam and Eileen and we have to get back before the rift closes.”

“I know, Cas. I know. But I need to say this now.”

Cas looks into the piercing green eyes that haven’t left his face, the eyes that are only inches from his own and nods. 

“I have to fix it with you. Not because you’re blood, but because you’re the most important person, or angel, in my life next to Sammy. You’ve messed up, Cas, but you’ve always pulled through for us in the end. And I--”

He breaks off, finally letting his eyes slip away from Cas’. When he starts speaking again, his voice has dropped so low that even with angelic hearing, Cas has to strain to hear it. 

“And I love you. Not like a brother, not like a best friend. I’m in love with you, Cas.”

Dean’s eyes are fixed to the colorless forest floor, his entire body small and vulnerable. 

Cas takes a small step forward, closing what little distance still lay between them. 

He lifts Dean’s chin up and stares into the bright eyes, drowning in the flecks of gold. 

“Dean.”

Cas wasn’t sure who closed the distance, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered because Dean Winchester’s lips were pressed gently against his. He kissed back slowly, gently leaning into the broken man, scared at the vulnerability that had been laid before him. 

He tilted back, pressing their foreheads together.

“Let’s go save those lovesick idiots.”


End file.
